


Physical Touch

by carolyncaves



Series: Love Languages [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Altissia (Final Fantasy XV), Angst, Blind Ignis Scientia, Canon Compliant, Cartanica (Final Fantasy XV), Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Ignis Spoilers, Gen, Gralea (Final Fantasy XV), Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, POV Multiple, Platonic Cuddling, Zegnautus Keep, a frankly indulgent amount of hugging and affectionate touch, i'm surprised that doesn't have a real tag, maybe i'm dumb and it should be tagged something else, summoning Ramuh, within reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-24 13:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolyncaves/pseuds/carolyncaves
Summary: All four of them deserve a hug. Or ten.For Noctis, summoning Ramuh's power makes him realize the path ahead might be hard to walk.For Gladio, the events in Altissia hit hard.For Ignis, coping with his new blindness is a strain, and the conflict between Noct and Gladio pushes him to his limit.For Prompto, his solo adventure was … a lot, but the guys arrive to put him back together.





	1. Noctis

**Author's Note:**

> The fifth and final part of my series based on the 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman. Because all of them deserve a hug. Or ten.
> 
> I decided to post these as they're ready because they're pretty self-contained (and because I feel like I'm being slow). No beta, we die like writers :)  
> \--  
> When you summon one of the gods in a fight, there's an exchange between the guys afterward and Noct usually says something like 'it takes a lot out of me'. So this is an extrapolation of that. (Also, I may or may not have a thing for lightning and the scene where Ramuh destroys the base Affected me.)
> 
> Tw for this chapter: vague body horror/thoughts of self harm

Their infiltration of Aracheole Stronghold had disintegrated into a chaotic fight. A fight they weren’t winning. When Noctis felt Ramuh in the back of his head, he called out to him without hesitation. He needed all the help he could get.

Suddenly he was a hundred feet in the air and smaller than a speck of dust. Ramuh's terrible voice vibrated through every inch of his body. Lightning pinned him to Ramuh's hand. There was too much power. It was going to grind him down until he was nothing.

Then it was over, and he was back on his own two feet.

The air was still and the ground was black. Red sparks flew on the wind. The base was desolated.

Noctis felt desolated, too. Like if he peeled himself open and looked inside, everything would be blackened and charred. The memory of sparks danced on his skin.

He could hear the others, distantly. Prompto was losing his mind. Ignis was satisfied. Gladio was impressed. Noctis rubbed his arms, like he could brush that feeling off himself, get it away from him, get it out of him.

"Noct," Ignis said, suddenly close at hand. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know," Noctis said, right before his knees gave out. Gladio said "Shit!" and Prompto cried out, but Ignis just caught him.

"You're shaking," Ignis said. "Noctis, what's the matter?"

"I don't know," Noctis wavered. "I don't know, I don't-" He threw up on the smoldering concrete. He was surprised what came out of him wasn't black or red. He felt like it should've been.

When he was done, Ignis pulled him to him, back to chest. He wiped Noctis' mouth with his sleeve, gentle and efficient, and rolled up his cuff with a few quick motions to hide the mess. "You're all right," he said, stroking his arm.

" _I don't know_ ," Noctis repeated. He might have been starting to panic. Why shouldn't he? He'd been hollowed out. Ignis' arm around his stomach was the only thing holding him up.

" _I_ know," Ignis said firmly, close to his ear. "I know the gods would not use you up, Noctis. Not like this. I _know_ you will be all right."

Noctis choked, almost a sob. Ignis was wrong. He couldn't take this, not if it didn't go away. He wanted to rip himself open, stuff something inside himself, anything to get that emptiness out.

Ignis' other arm locked firmly across his chest, and somehow that brought it back from the brink of unbearable. Noctis clung to that arm. If Ignis moved it, Noctis might actually die.

"That's it," Ignis said. "You're all right."

Noctis shook and shook and gasped for air. Ignis held him together, sat there and let Noctis shake against him. Eventually that hollow feeling receded, just a bit. The gasping turned into breathing, each breath longer than the last. Then he was still and limp in Ignis' arms. He almost felt like a human being again. He took the deepest breath he'd ever taken. It felt like relief. He opened his eyes.

Gladio towered over him, even on his knees, his shoulders blocking out everything else around them. His face was taut and dark. He had an arm around Prompto, who knelt beside him. His face was wet with tears.

Noctis tilted his head back. The sky was blue and white, far above. "I'm all right," he said.

"Good," Gladio replied.

Gladio and Ignis eased him forward until Noctis was sitting cross-legged with his head resting on his palms. He was pretty sure each of his friends had at least one hand on him. He didn't mind. It helped.

"So that's the power of the Six," he said.

"Bit of a bad trip," Gladio said seriously.

Prompto let out a shaky laugh. "No kidding."

"All's well that ends well," Ignis said. He was gripping Noctis' arm pretty hard.

Noctis looked up at him. His face was pale and his lips were thin like he was pressing them together. His sharp eyes were locked on Noctis. He seemed rattled.

Noctis realized with a jolt that Ignis hadn't really been sure he'd be okay. Ignis had played confident for his sake, but he'd been afraid. Afraid Noctis would die in his arms. Or something.

"Specs," he said. He reached out for him, snagged his sleeve. The one he'd used to wipe Noctis' gross vomit off his face without hesitation. "I'm all right. Okay?"

Ignis stared at him. He reached forward, seizing Noctis' head in both hands. He brushed a kiss quickly across his forehead. "Thank the Six."

"Well," Prompto said, "it was kinda their fault in the first place. So I mean ..."

Ignis choked, and Noctis couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Blasphemer," Gladio joked, elbowing Prompto in the side.

"Let's go get the Regalia," Noctis suggested.

Prompto sprang to his feet. "And get the heck out of here? Yes, please."

Of course, then they ran into fucking Ravus.

\---------

After that creep Ardyn chased Ravus away – and fine, even though Noctis was shaking with fury, he was probably in no condition to fight Ravus – they finally piled into the Regalia. The mood was even worse than before.

Ignis was silent, Prompto was wilted, and Gladio was seething. Noctis' own anger was fading fast. He was tired. Ignis pulled the Regalia onto the main road and picked up speed. Noctis leaned against the side of the car and closed his eyes.

"Sorry," Gladio said.

No one responded. It occurred to Noctis that Gladio might be talking to him. He dragged his eyes open. "Huh?"

Gladio was staring murderously at his own hands where they were clasped in his lap. "I'm sorry. Your Majesty."

Noctis forced his brain to trace back over what happened with Ravus. Gladio, tossed aside. Smashed into the side of the Regalia. Noctis lunging in front of him. Protecting his Shield from the threat.

Gladio’s elbow was scraped and bleeding. Noctis hadn't noticed. That probably wasn't the only place he was hurt.

Noctis drew a potion out of the armiger. He held it out.

Gladio growled. "I don't need that."

Noctis levered himself away from the side of the car. He cracked the potion against Gladio's shoulder. Magic lit the air. It both was and wasn’t a part of him. He almost felt it heal Gladio’s wounds. When it was done, he held out his hand.

Gladio stared at it like it was Ravus, or a freaking normal shirt.

"I'm tired," Noctis said. "And I'm." He didn't know what he was. Not quite right, still. He shook his hand impatiently.

Gladio took it, carefully. Then he reached over and hauled Noctis across the back seat. He tucked him against his side so Noctis could rest his head, wrapped his tattooed arm around his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Gladio repeated. Softer, this time. Just between the two of them.

"It's fine, shut up." Noctis reached over for Gladio's other hand. It was a little awkward, but he didn't care. He held it in both of his own, gently rubbed the calloused fingers. A lifetime of work, for him.

Gladio couldn't protect Noctis from everything. He couldn't protect him from the gods. Just like Clarus couldn't protect his dad from the Empire. Noctis felt a spear of panic.

It was safer to focus on Gladio. His arm around him was warmer than the sun shining though the open top of the Regalia. He couldn't protect Noctis from everything. His job was to try. And he always did. "It’s seriously fine," Noctis murmured, squeezing his hand.

"Mmph," Gladio said. It wasn't an agreement.

Noctis didn't have the energy to argue. His eyes slipped closed. Gladio was a better pillow than the side of the Regalia by far. He clumsily tangled their fingers together.

"You did good today," Gladio said. "With Ramuh. I know it hurt, but what you did will save a lot of people. It's gonna make a difference."

Maybe that made it worth it.

\---------

Turned out it was all for nothing, because Jared was dead.

After the news broke, after Noctis listened to a crying little boy say he believed in him, everyone was distracted. Gladio went to comfort Iris and Ignis was busy making calls and plans. No one was paying attention to Noctis.

When he knew he was alone, he collapsed into a chair. His chest hurt, and it was making him think about earlier, about Ramuh and that scorched hollowness he was trying to forget. It was a lost cause. That feeling was going to be part of his brain forever. It scared him.

Pale hands caught his own and pulled them away from his chest. Noctis started. He hadn't noticed Prompto enter the room, and he also hadn't noticed that he was kind of scraping at himself. The realization made him almost want to cry. He was close anyway.

Prompto sank to the floor at his feet, keeping Noctis' hands for himself. "Hey, buddy. You doing all right?"

Nocits didn't know how to answer that.

"Sorry," Prompto said, like he'd decided it was a stupid question. “Everything sucks, right. About earlier, I …” He trailed off, and his eyes traced up and down Noctis. Like he was looking for cracks.

Noctis couldn’t blame him.

"The whole psheww-k-chhhh thing was amazing, don’t get me wrong, but, uh … Maybe we'll be lucky and you'll never have to do that again." His voice was bright, Prompto's voice was always bright, but he still sounded like he didn't believe that any more than Noctis did. "Or maybe it won't be like that every time. For you. Maybe it'll get easier."

Noctis didn't know what would be worse. Feeling that feeling over and over, or becoming something where that gaping rawness didn't bother him anymore.

Prompto must have seen it on his face, because he squeezed Noctis' hands tighter. "It doesn't matter," Prompto continued. "We'll be by your side, every time. I can't ... make it better, or do it for you. But I'll ..." He laughed unsteadily, shrugged.

"I know," Noctis said. Prompto would do anything, everything he could.

Noctis leaned forward. He pulled on his hands. Prompto released them instantly. Noctis wound his fingers though Prompto's golden hair. His friend's warmth drove some of the tightness out of his chest. "Thank you," he said.

Prompto gripped Noctis' knees. "I mean, dude, you're the one who's doing the heavy lifting here. For real."

Noctis shook his head, but he didn't argue. He just curled his hand around the back of Prompto's neck, pressed his temple to the side of Prompto's head, and breathed.

He was going to have to do it again. And again and again and again. He'd known Luna was suffering, as she faced each of the gods in turn, but he hadn't really understood what that meant. Not for her, not for him. He was the Chosen King. He was going to win the favor of each of the Six. No matter what it took. And he was going to use that favor to save everyone.

He just didn't know what would be left of him by the time he was done.

He choked on a sob. A single short sound escaped him. That was all it took.

Then he was bawling into Prompto's hair.

"Oh my gosh, Noct, hey, buddy, shh." Prompto's hands were everywhere, trying to soothe him. "It's okay, you're okay, I'm right here.”

Noctis tried to get himself under control. "I’m sorry.”

“Dude, Noct, you can cry whenever you want. You're always so locked down ... I mean, I cry in the car when everyone else is busy shopping for potions, so maybe you have your own ... but I think you're kinda, like, long overdue. Just go to town, let it all out."

Prompto’s words pierced the haze of Noctis’ thoughts, gave him something outside himself to focus on. Prompto breaking down alone, hiding it from the rest of them. From him. How could he have missed that? He was supposed to be responsible for everybody. He dug his fingers into Prompto’s skin.

"Don't ever cry without me again," Noctis said. "Please."

"Dude, you're not missing much. It's just a lot of snot dripping and ugly red-face, honestly."

"Prompto," Noctis said haggardly. " _Please_."

"Sure, Noct," Prompto surrendered, rubbing Noctis' back with slow gentle strokes. "If it's that important to you."

It was, but Noctis' ability to articulate himself was seriously hampered by the tears currently dripping off his own face.

The door to their room opened, and two sharp breaths cut the air. "Noct," Gladio's low voice came, "you okay?"

"He's fine," Prompto said. He got up on his knees and pulled Noctis' head to his chest. Shielding him from view. Probably the way he'd want to be shielded if he was distressed. "We're just having a moment."

Footsteps. Prompto tensed. He was ready to defend Noctis, even from their friends.

"It's fine," Noctis murmured. They'd all seen him in pieces earlier. Why not in tears now?

Ignis perched on the arm of his chair. A gloved hand slid up his back. "There now."

Gladio's hand clamped down on the back on his neck. Firm, solid. Grounding.

"You are not to blame for what's transpired here," Ignis said, "and we will do everything we can to prevent it from happening again."

"So don't sweat it," Gladio said. "You've got this, and we've got you."

"Whatever it takes," Prompto agreed. "Nifs, crazy god stuff … whatever."

Noctis took a shuddering breath. They were trying to help. He knew they'd do anything for him. He knew he’d do anything he needed to. He hated it. What it might mean.

"I know," was all he said. His voice came out sturdier than he felt. It was probably his friends’ steady hands, keeping him in place.

Noctis scrubbed at his eyes. He couldn’t wallow. They had to get to Altissia. To the next Astral. The next impossible thing.

Maybe he'd finally get to see Luna. He was looking forward to talking to her. There were so many things he wanted to say. He wanted to see her smile, hear her say something wise.

The thought of it calmed his heart a little. She’d probably tell him to have more hope.


	2. Gladio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [hakureiryuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HakureiRyuu/pseuds/HakureiRyuu) for talking this through with me, their thoughts really helped me figure out how to approach Gladio's mindset here.
> 
> Tw for this chapter: suicidal ideation

Gladio knew he had what it took to be Noct’s Shield. He wasn’t too proud to say (in the privacy of his own mind) that his ego took a hit from their run-in with Ravus. But after his trip to the Tempering Grounds, after he beat the Blademaster, Gladio was feeling pretty confident.

Maybe that’s why it was such a shock, getting stuck in the streets of Altissia with the entire Empire and half the Astrals between him and Noctis while Noct fought his biggest fight yet without him. Maybe that’s why, when he watched the section of bridge Ignis was standing on get smashed into rubble, that ego broke open at the seams and bled.

But he couldn’t do anything about it. They had to push on. He had to get to Noct. As they fought their way toward that golden light, Prompto was dead silent. Gladio kept looking at him, checking to see if he’d actually been injured. He hadn't. It was his spirits that were crushed.

Just like Ignis.

**No.** The sea was grey and choppy. Titan roared against the skyline. An MT sparked and crumpled under his sword. He didn't have room in his brain for anything but the immediate task. Get to Noct.

When Iggy's voice crackled over the com line, Prompto burst back into full technicolor. Jabbering into his earpiece, he threw his arms around Gladio. Gladio couldn't do anything. He was stunned with relief. He had to focus to keep his knees from giving out.

Prompto released him quickly. "Sorry, got a little too excited, I was just ... let's keep going."

\---------

Everything was fine after that, until they actually got to the altar.

He took everything in like a series of stab wounds to his chest. Noctis, limp and unconscious. Ignis, writhing in pain. Lunafreya, blood on white fabric, dead dead dead.

Suddenly he knew what failure looked like. He tasted it, iron in his mouth. He saw the line of Ravus' shoulders and realized how easy it would be to lose. How he might not be able to stop it, even if he did everything as right as he could.

Then he stuffed that into a tiny little iron box to deal with later (never) and started figuring out how to get everyone home. He wanted to carry both of them himself, but he didn't have enough arms. He let them put Ignis on a stretcher, but it gouged at his ego – which felt a lot like his heart – and he hovered at Ignis’ side. Noctis was a soggy rag doll against his chest.

Prompto kept checking him, pressing his small pale hand to Noct’s neck, so clearly Gladio wasn't the only one who thought he looked like death.

\---------

Gladio felt so fucking tired.

There was a gigantic L-shaped sectional sofa in the outer room of their suite in the First Secretary’s diplomatic quarters. It was deep enough that he could lie flat on his back with no danger of rolling off, it was cushy and soft, and it was so long he fit on one half of it from head to toe with plenty of room to spare. It was the best couch he'd ever laid on. It was the only thing about their situation that wasn't fucking terrible.

Noct was in one bedroom and Iggy was in the other. Both unconscious. They got back six hours ago and Noct still couldn't be roused. He was completely unresponsive. Gladio remembered how he'd been after Ramuh, he knew this Astrals shit wasn't safe or normal, but he wasn't going to start worrying about it until morning. Then ... he didn't know what. What would they do if Noctis literally never woke up? If he wasted and died? Would Gladio just hang himself from the curtain rod, or would he have the energy left for something dramatic like dying on his own sword?

He was **not gonna start worrying about it until morning**.

That left Ignis. Ignis, Gladio could wrap his mind around.

Ignis was gonna make it, but he'd really fucked himself up.

A doc had given him a onceover and a painkiller, and said something like 'he'll have to let us know what state his vision is in when he wakes', which Gladio took to mean he was probably blind and the doc just didn't want to give them the bad news. Gladio wasn't sure how they were going to handle it. He'd see if he could let Ignis make the call. For now Ignis was sleeping the sleep of the mildly sedated, which was probably for the best.

The front door of their suite clicked open. "Oh," Prompto said. Then his voice dropped to a whisper. "Oh, sorry if I ..."

"You didn't wake me up," Gladio said.

He had no idea where Prompto had been. He hadn't even really noticed he was gone, to be honest. He felt kind of bad, but compared to everything else it didn't really bump the needle on his emotional radar. Did Prompto's eyes look redder than usual?

Prompto edged over toward him. He eyed the open arm of the sofa, then walked past it and sat down tentatively on the edge right beside Gladio. His hip was touching Gladio's side, a point of firm contact.

A long silence stretched between them. Prompto kept staring at the floor. Gladio didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. It’ll be okay? At least it’s over? Everyone’s all right? None of that was true.

Prompto sniffed - once, quietly - and lay his head down on Gladio's chest.

It shook him. The brush of yellow hair against his skin, the arm wrapping around his waist, the gentle weight pressing him deeper into the cushions. It took Gladio a second to realize he needed to react, to bring his own arms up around Prompto's scrawny body in return, to do his part to hold them close against each other. That closeness sunk into him like sunlight. Gladio tried to absorb it into his body, infuse it into his bones so later it might help hold him up.

Prompto's head was tilted so Gladio couldn't see his face. Couldn't see up-close the evidence that he'd been crying. He was stiller than he had any right to be, a warm tired lump. This fucking kid, he'd been knocked down to ten percent of his usual luminosity and he was still trying to share pieces of himself with Gladio.

"Thanks," Prompto whispered.

"Likewise,” Gladio replied.

Prompto's next breath was shaky, and the one after that was sharp, and suddenly Prompto was tearing himself out of Gladio's arms.

"Prompto." Gladio rocketed off the couch after him.

Prompto curled away as he cast around for an exit. Of course Prompto wouldn't want to let big mean hardass Gladio see him be fucking real for a minute.

But Gladio was who he was stuck with. "Prompto, stop."

"I'm gonna go sit with Noct," he choked.

"Prompto!" Shit, now Gladio was yelling at him when he was upset.

Prompto jerked to a halt. His back was very purposefully to Gladio, and his shoulders trembled, and his breath caught and stuttered and hitched. He was clearly holding himself together by the ends of his raggedy fingernails. "I thhhought I was done," he whimpered. "I'm sorry I'm weepy, I just, _please_ , I can't ..."

"It's okay," Gladio said. He carefully put his hands on Prompto's shoulders. Prompto jerked under him. "It's okay, you can ... fuck, Prompto, do you think I care if you cry? You think I'm gonna be mad, or think less of you?"

"I doubt you’d think less of me," Prompto whispered. "I’m already useless. I feel like everything is horrible and I can't do anything about it."

Gladio dug fingers in fiercely. He'd never felt closer to Prompto than in that moment. "Yeah, well, you’re not useless. I think you’re pretty damn tough. Sometimes shit just happens, and we pick up the pieces and keep going." Gladio gently nudged Prompto so he'd turn. His face was red and blotchy and he wouldn’t meet Gladio’s eyes. "Look, I'm not trying to trap you or anything, you can leave if you want to. But ..." Gladio didn't know how to say what he meant. "I like you being here. Weepy or not.”

Prompto’s mouth trembled. "Gladio,” he said. Then he draped his arms around Gladio's neck and pressed his face into his chest.

Gladio stood there for fifteen minutes while Prompto sniffled into his jacket. There was nowhere better he could have been. He rubbed Prompto’s shoulders and combed his fingers sloppily through his hair. He doubted either of them would feel much better afterwards, but it wasn't about that. Right now they were together.

Eventually Prompto was done. He pulled away, grimacing sheepishly at Gladio. “Sorry. Uh, and thanks.” He rubbed his nose and turned to the sofa. “Good thing there’s plenty of room. Guess I’ll just …” He started fluffing a pillow at the far end of one arm of the sectional.

“Please, blondie,” Gladio said. He grabbed the pillow out of Prompto’s hands.

Gladio sank back against the plush cushions of the sofa’s deep corner. He settled Prompto’s pillow at his side and gave it a pat. An invitation.

Prompto shot him a watery smile. He crawled onto the vacant arm of the sofa, perpendicular to Gladio, and snuggled his head into Gladio’s side.

With the weight of Prompto beside him, Gladio beat the odds and got some actual decent sleep. Which was good. He was gonna need it.

\---------

Iggy looked terrible. Gladio had been able to avoid examining the damage while Ignis was asleep, but now that he was awake and dressed and he’d had a cup of coffee Gladio couldn’t put off talking to him any longer. So Gladio was standing in Ignis’ room, across from where Ignis sat on the edge of the bed, with nowhere to look but Iggy’s face. He was trying to pay attention to what Ignis was saying, about Ardyn and the ring, but he kept getting distracted by his twisted grey scars.

He looked like he’d been burned through. Gladio kind of wanted to take a hammer and smash that fucking ring to pieces. How dare it?

Then Ignis said something that broke through the haze of Gladio’s anger.

"I am not ... entirely certain we should continue."

Was Gladio having a stroke? Was _Ignis_ having a stroke? "Continue what?"

"This journey. After recent events, after the loss of the Oracle, I have begun to wonder ... if the costs will prove too great."

Gladio couldn't believe he was hearing this. A rage that felt a lot like panic started to rise in his chest.

"I plan to discuss it with Noctis," Ignis continued. "I should have done so before troubling you with it. I apologize. I simply ..." His voice cut off sharply, in that way he had when he was getting emotional and he didn't want anyone to know.

Gladio growled. He almost turned away, before he remembered Ignis couldn't fucking see the fury on his face. He couldn’t believe Iggy was doing this to him. He couldn't do this without Ignis on board. Fuck, he probably couldn't do it _with_ Ignis on board, but he definitely couldn't drag all four of them to the finish line if everyone was going to fight him every step of the way. "That's stupid," he said. "We knew the risks. _You_ knew the risks. I'm sorry you got hurt, Ignis, I'm _so fucking sorry_ , I'd take your place in a heartbeat if I could. But this has always been do or die."

Ignis huffed humorlessly. "Gladio."

"Don't crumble on me, Ignis. I'm begging you. I'll do this with or without you, I will, but-" Gladio's throat closed around the rest of his sentence. His heart was trying to climb out of his mouth all of a sudden. He couldn't cry, not now. If everyone else was going to pieces, he had to keep it together.

Ignis got up - he knew Gladio too well to miss that - and the way he reached out for him blindly pushed Gladio over the edge. A harsh sob escaped his chest. He clamped his hand over his mouth and his will over his body, got that shit under control, in the half-second it took Iggy's fingertips to find him. Then Ignis was right there, all business, gripping Gladio's biceps and bringing him back to earth.

"I will not crumble," Ignis said fiercely. "I will not abandon you. I'm right here, Gladiolus, and I will stand beside you for as long as I am able. To the bitter end, if that is what's required."

"I know," Gladio said. "I know, Ignis. I didn't mean to say you were-"

"It's all right." Ignis slid his hands up to cup the back of Gladio's head, tugged him forward into a hug.

Gladio rested his forehead on Ignis' shoulder. How messed up was it that Ignis was the one comforting him? He rubbed his hands slowly up and down Iggy's back and let everything he'd been stewing over tumble out of his mouth. "I'm sorry you got hurt. I'm sorry you _are_ hurt. I'm sorry I wasn't there and I couldn't stop it. Why the fuck did you do it, Iggy? Why'd you have to be such a damned hero?"

Ignis spoke his reply into Gladio's neck. "You know why."

He did. They were two of a fucking kind. He wrapped his arms around Ignis and squeezed him as tight as he could. So tight it probably hurt, so tight he could feel his bones shift, but Gladio couldn't stop himself. He didn't have the words to tell Ignis what he was feeling, but he couldn't physically contain it either.

Iggy was gripping him just as hard. After all these years, they both knew how to speak each others' languages.

They stood there for a while, until Gladio’s ribs ached and some of the horror of yesterday had seeped out of him.

\---------

Two days later, Noct woke up. When Ignis came out and told him, Gladio stood in the bathroom for ten minutes wiping his face before it would stay dry.

Two days after that, Gladio was practically climbing the walls. Noct had barely said three words to anyone. Even Iggy. Even him. Noct was recovering, Gladio got that, he'd been wrung out within an inch of his life. But Noct’s attitude, or lack thereof, was starting to rile him up.

It was dim in Noct's room. The curtains were half-drawn and the lights were out and Noct lay motionless in the bed. His eyes were open, trained on the thin light filtering through the sheers. He didn't acknowledge Gladio, even when he sat on the ottoman beside the bed.

Noct was always tired, and it was always irritating and endearing. Gladio would grumble but let Noct snooze on his shoulder in the car. He'd say something biting but let him go to bed early and sleep in late. It was the only young-person thing Noct was able to do and Gladio couldn't bring himself to actually resent it.

This wasn't that. Noct wasn't sleepy. He was empty, listless, hollow, and those were things he couldn't afford to be. They had work to do. Gladio was restraining himself, was trying to give Noct a little time, but the sight of him like that fanned the flames of something in Gladio's chest that grew hotter with each hour they spent doing nothing in the ruins of Altissia.

"You in there, Noct?"

Noct answered with a stiff jerk of his shoulder. A shrug.

"I'm serious. Give me something. Are you in pain? What’s the problem?" Gladio didn't say it, but the 'what can I do to fix it' was implied.

"Nothing," Noct said. Like he actually thought that was an acceptable answer.

Gladio counted out three slow breaths. He was not gonna lose it. He'd decided that before he came in here. Noct was healing, and grieving, and Gladio would just have to be okay with it. For now.

But he needed something from Noct, something to keep himself from coming out of his skin.

Noct rolled onto his back - slowly, listlessly - and his eyes fell over Gladio in the half-light. There was nothing behind them, but maybe they saw something in Gladio's posture anyway, because Noct took a deep breath and spoke. "C'mon, just. Do whatever you need to do."

Gladio eased himself over onto the bed. Noct looked up at him blankly, and Gladio couldn't look at that look, so he looked down at the rest of him instead. He carefully lay his hands on Noct's chest. Warm, heart beating, alive.

Gladio felt across Noct's strong chest, one way and then the other. He teased him about his muscles, but they were there. He'd put a few of them there himself. He moved down his body. He felt each rib, one by one. Traced his fingers along the hard lines of his stomach. Then he made his way back up. Across his shoulders. Down his arms. They were as lean as the rest of him.

His hands were firm. Toughened from wielding all those weapons. Skilled enough to mostly find his mark. Hands made for great deeds. Noct’s fingers curled limply around Gladio's as he handled one hand, then the other.

Gladio had to stop. Had to be done with whatever this was. He needed to put Noct's hand back on the bed and get up and leave. But he was having trouble doing it.

Noct was still looking at him, but there was something in his eyes now. Something small, something weak, but something. Noct held out his free hand.

Gladio pulled Noct up and draped him against his chest. Noct slumped into shoulder, and his hand rested limply against Gladio's hip. It was a shitty hug, honestly, but Noct was alive and almost feverishly hot through his crummy t-shirt and Gladio would take every inch of that he could get.

He picked up where he left off. He formed his hands around the curve of Noct's neck. Memorized the strength of his shoulders. Ran his hand over the lumps and bumps of Noct’s crooked back. His charge and his king, broken from the start. Damaged before Gladio even had a chance to stop it.

That attack when he was a kid changed him permanently. Made him subdued, withdrawn. This time wouldn't be like that. Gladio wouldn't let it. That was his job. His duty.

Gladio would get Noctis back on his feet and moving. He would get Noct’s head back in the game. He would make Noct do what he had to do.

Even if Noct hated him for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out pretty brutal honestly … I don’t think the last two are going to be quite as bad. I’m hoping to end this series on a happy feeling (somehow haha, I’ve dug myself a deep hole).
> 
> I’m doing Camp NaNo in July, so I have given myself a firm deadline of June 30 to wrap this fic up. It’ll happen! So, uh, thanks for bearing with me.


	3. Ignis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow this one’s EVEN LONGER.
> 
> I’m not blind, so this is all just my imagination. If I’ve strayed into anything unfortunate or uncool please don’t hesitate to call me on it.

It had been two weeks since his injury. Six days since they left Altissia.

Ignis was adrift in darkness.

The others were angry and aggrieved and withdrawn. Gladio and Noctis had begun to argue – or rather, Gladio shot increasingly caustic comments at Noctis and Noct absorbed them like a mannequin. Which only made Gladio worse. Ignis wanted to say something, but it was hard. There was a black gulf between him and everything else, one he wasn’t yet sure how to cross.

Noctis was barely speaking at all. Ignis did not begrudge him his grief – Noctis was putting one foot in front of the other, as he must, and it was unfair to ask any more of him – but his silence was harder on Ignis than he would like to admit. He found himself straining to catch the whisper of Noct’s breath, reaching out to brush his arm as he passed. In Ignis’ new world, silence was nonexistence.

He also couldn't sleep.

It was always dark for him now, but the nights were darker. Lying there by himself, in strange places and strange rooms he could not see, he became unsettled. Anxious. It was the same in the bed in Altissia, in the berth on the boat, in the compartment on this train. Each night Ignis lay awake for hours, at the mercy of a frightening void. When he did manage to doze off, his rest was uneasy and disturbed. He had not slept - _slept_ \- in weeks.

So as he sat in the sun-drenched window as they approached Cartanica - and thank the Astrals he could still feel the sun's kiss on his skin - Ignis was very nearly at the end of his rope.

Perhaps the only thing keeping him sane was blessed Prompto. Since the moment Ignis awoke in Altissia, Prompto had been careful to remain at his side. There was always a hand on his arm and a kind word in his ear. Within an hour of boarding the train, Prompto had invented a game for the two of them to play, and they'd been refining it ever since.

"Ten o'clock," Prompto said. "A couple of rows away. Kinda high-pitched, feminine."

"I hear it." Ignis focused on the voice, on the content of its speech, on the tone and emotion. From this, he would make wildly offensive guesses at the bearer's characteristics and appearance.

Not the most kind-spirited pastime, Ignis had to admit. Prompto had originally designed the game as a truer test of observation. But in his current state of mind Ignis had not been able to silence the darker corners of his wit, and Prompto had gracefully allowed the shift in tone.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Gladio growled.

Ignis was startled. He hadn’t noticed Gladio approach. He’d been distracted, too focused on the game to discern his footfalls over the noise of the train car.

“What?” Noct replied. Tight, quiet. Ignis’ heart plummeted. They were going to argue again, and he was powerless to stop it.

Argue they did. Noct’s voice rose, ragged and strained. Gladio railed at him without mercy.

Then: “Ignis took one for you too, and for what?”

“Enough, Gladio!” Gladio would believe Ignis was coddling Noct. So be it. Ignis did not want to be a pawn in this fight, a weapon for Gladio to bludgeon Noctis with.

He didn’t put on that ring for _this_.

Gladio continued his assault, and Prompto rose. “Don’t do this-”

A rustle, a soft cry, stumbling steps. Ignis’ blood ran like ice.

Gladio and Noctis exchanged a final volley Ignis didn’t quite hear. Noct stalked off one way, Gladio the other.

Ignis clutched his cane rigidly. He could feel his pulse pounding in his jaw.

Prompto was still and silent. “Are you all right?” Ignis asked. If he weren’t blind … no. Rather, if he didn’t feel humiliatingly tethered to this seat and the wall of the train beside him, he would storm down the train and knock Gladio senseless for laying a hand on him.

“I’m fine,” Prompto replied, in an unsteady voice that belied his words. He slowly slid back into the seat. Closer than before. “Uh. Did you want to pick up where we left off?”

With their listening game. “Perhaps not, if it’s all the same.”

“Yeah, sure, I mean … who’s really in the mood right now, you know?”

Ignis did know. He couldn’t imagine feeling light enough to _play_. He wanted to rage, or weep. ~~~~

He could not succumb to that. He focused on his physical body: on the firm seat at his back, on the vibration of the train beneath his feet, on the faint warmth of Prompto’s arm a hair’s breadth from his own. He felt tired, but he would manage. He would simply drink another Ebony before they departed for the mine.

His ruined eye didn’t bother him much apart from a vague sense of numbness – it appeared the nerves in that part of his face were dead – but the scar on his lip was hideously distracting. It wasn’t painful, not really. Not anymore. But it wasn’t correct. His mouth no longer fit together quite the same way he was accustomed to. It felt wrong, in the same way a sock could feel wrong, the seam uncomfortable under one’s toes.

It would never go away.

Prompto’s fingers curled gently in Ignis’ palm. That simple touch unwound some of the stress that had built up in his body, dulled the cacophony of his frazzled mind. The warm pads of Prompto’s fingers were as reassuring as the sunlight.

He would get used to the scar. Eventually. In a few weeks or a few months, he would cease to notice it entirely. It would simply become part of the terrain of his body, of the experience of inhabiting it. Just like all the rest.

Ignis cupped his hand loosely around Prompto’s. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing, Iggy. It’s the least I can do.”

When they arrived at Cartanica, Noctis didn't even mention the possibility of leaving him behind. Ignis wasn't certain whether he felt profoundly grateful or completely overlooked.

\---------

The mine was a waterlogged nightmare.

The terrain was impossible. The ground was never where Ignis thought it should be, and every step was uncertain terror. The water dragged at the cane. Not that he knew how to use it.  Ignis knew he was traveling at a snail’s pace, and still he tripped and stumbled and fell. Over and over.

Prompto always caught him. Ignis regretted every sardonic thought he’d ever had about Prompto. He wanted to sink to the earth and pull Prompto tight against him and never move again.

As bad as the walking was, combat proved worse. It was a whirlwind of noise and movement and terrible danger, and Ignis didn’t know how to parse it. He couldn’t contribute. He could barely keep himself out of the way.

Within an hour he was scraped up, wet from head to toe, and near tears from frustration.

It was all wrong. Ignis was competent and capable. Ignis was Noct’s hand, his chamberlain, his support in all things.

Ignis was helpless.

They had Cup Noodles for dinner. Despite Ignis’ long-standing policy of disapproval, they were warm and relatively satisfying. Unlike the oppressive mood. Gladio didn’t even gloat that he’d been vindicated in his bizarre obsession with the instant soup.

Perhaps because they had no more left. If they had to stay here another night, dinner would be cold out of a can.

Noctis bluntly declined to look at Prompto’s photographs, and Ignis could practically feel Prompto deflate. Ignis reached out, touching his fingers to the arm of Prompto’s chair.

He heard the gentle click of the camera’s buttons. “It’s an ugly place anyway,” Prompto said. “You’re not missing much.”

Ignis thought about fairer places he would never see, or never see again. He thought about the sky.

When they retired for the night, Ignis lay in his usual spot at the edge of the tent. The thin fabric wall felt flimsy and insufficient. No barrier at all. He could hear the daemons outside. Some off in the distance, others near enough to make his skin crawl. His friends were unconscious in an uncharted sea of blankets and luggage at his back. He lay awake for a small eternity in the lonely stillness.

\---------

Ignis woke smothered with confusion. Where was he? Altissia? The train? He soon remembered he was in the tent, but he couldn't determine right away if it was night or morning, if the others were there or gone. The disorientation choked him. Tears threatened.

The tent flap rustled as someone entered. “Hey, Iggy,” Gladio said.

“Good morning,” Ignis managed. “What … time is it?”

“Almost nine. Figured you could stand to sleep in for a change. Prompto managed some eggs and toast for breakfast. Yours are probably cold by now, but I’m sure he can warm them up. _His Majesty_ is …”

Ignis didn’t listen, didn’t want to know what fresh reproach Gladio had for Noctis. “Cold is adequate. I’d hate to slow everyone down further. I’ll eat and then we can be off.”

“ _Adequate?_ Ignis, don’t give me that shit. Prompto’s gonna heat up your damn eggs.“

The tears had returned to the back of Ignis’ throat. He wanted to tell Gladio to shove the damned eggs. He wanted to shake some sense back into Gladio’s thick head. He wanted to show Gladio the sharp shards of panic that were tearing him apart, so Gladio could smooth off their edges.

He couldn’t. Gladio was coming apart at his own seams, and if Ignis put any more weight on him, he might collapse.

But Gladiolus was Ignis’ coping mechanism. For the span of their lives, Gladio's calm counsel had always been what brought Ignis back from the brink of panic or despair. Without it now ... Ignis was worried _he_ would collapse. Disintegrate into the shallow water of this accursed mine.

He wanted to tell Gladio to take hold of him. To lay gentle hands over Ignis’ useless eyes. Perhaps then he could relax, for just a moment. Perhaps then he could sleep.

He let Prompto reheat the eggs. They were a little dry, but unobjectionable. Ignis ate half of them, then retched behind a bush at the first inconspicuous opportunity.

The mood was marginally lighter that day. But ‘marginally’ was not enough. Ignis would drown if they didn’t reach safe harbor soon.

\---------

In the aftermath of the battle with the malboro, hands trembling from the burst of magic and the adrenaline of near-death, Ignis could no longer hold his tongue. They were acting like fools.

And finally they were talking, about something that mattered, about the way forward. But still Gladio argued, and still Prompto defended, and still Noctis was agonizingly silent. Still Gladio continued to goad Noct. What was the matter with him? With both of them? He was blind, _he was blind_ , how could they be angry with each other?

Perhaps he said that last bit out loud.

Suddenly there were careful hands on his arms. Noctis. He stood close to Ignis, closer than they had been in days. “Specs, you’re shaking.”

Perhaps he was. And why not? He sank to his knees, already-drenched pants splashing in the water on the ground. _Astrals_ , he was so sick of everything being wet. He felt soaked through to the bone.

“Ignis. I’m sorry I’ve been caught up.” Noct’s voice was unsteady. “What happened in Altissia.” One hand came up to cup his face. “Thank you. For doing that for me.”

Ignis couldn’t speak. His throat would not permit words to pass.

Noct’s arms circled him, guided him forward. His face came into contact with Noct’s shirt. It was damp, like everything else. Perhaps that would keep Noctis from noticing a handful of stray tears.

Ignis grabbed fistfuls of Noct’s jacket. “Of course. Your Majesty.”

Noctis choked. He hunched protectively over Ignis, rubbed the nape of his neck. His fingers were cold. They were all cold. Ignis had never wanted a warm shower and a hot cup of coffee more.

“Six, Iggy, you look like shit,” Gladio said at his elbow. “How much sleep have you been getting?”

“He’s been drinking a lot of Ebony,” Prompto said.

Noctis continued to stroke his neck. He spoke gently into Ignis’ ear. “Have you not been sleeping, Specs?” There was something proprietary, possessive in his demeanor, something that made Ignis sag against him.

It took Ignis several breaths to be able to respond. “Not well, I’m afraid.” No one else spoke, so Ignis decided they must be waiting for him to elaborate. “This blindness … has made the nights difficult.”

The fingers at his nape clenched. Noctis pressed a hard kiss to his temple. Inches from his ravaged eye. “Well. Don’t worry about that anymore. We’ll get back to the train and figure something out.”

\---------

A hot meal and a hotter shower did wonders for Ignis’ sense of wellbeing. Sitting across from Noctis in the dining car, touching his hand and sharing his conversation, did more still.

"I'm just glad you're alive." Noct said.

"I'm grateful I was able to protect you, Noct. At least this once."

Noct adjusted his grip, squeezed his hand seriously. "Ignis ..."

Prompto clomped down the aisle and slid into the seat beside Ignis, pressing himself right up to his side without hesitation. “Sooo, what’s shakin’?”

“You mean besides the train?” Heavy footsteps approached from the other direction. Gladio. He stopped at the end of the booth, a palpable presence. "Glad to see the gang's all together." There was still a hint of awkwardness in the air between Gladio and Noct, but it more closely resembled a mutual chagrin than the stifling resentment of the past week.

“Me, too,” Prompto said warmly. “Although … Noct, there was actually something I wanted to show you back in our room if that’s cool. Uh, I mean, if Gladio …”

“Yeah, I’ll stay with Iggy. Make good choices.”

“Lame,” Prompto said.

Prompto and Noct tromped away down the dining car. Gladio slid easily into the seat across from him. He tangled their ankles together, his rugged clothes rough through the fabric of Ignis’ slacks. “Doin’ okay, Iggy?”

“Quite well, yes.” And he was. The cup of coffee in front of him was warming his veins and holding him up, and the restoration of equilibrium among the company had eased his spirit. The rest would come.

“Look,” Gladio said. “I know I’ve been a dick. I was riding Noct’s ass … more than necessary. And I’ve been ignoring you. I, uh.” He cleared his throat. “It’s like I kept saying to Noct, actually. I was too busy stewing when I should have been there for you.” He rubbed the toe of his boot against the back of Ignis’ calf.

Ignis felt across the tabletop for Gladio’s hand, and Gladio met him. “Consider it forgiven, at least on my part. It’s been a challenging time for all of us. We must simply move forward.”

Gladio bought Ignis a decaf, and they chatted for almost an hour. Freely and easily, ranging across topics from the serious to the frivolous. The way Ignis missed the dawn. Cup Noodles. The loss of the Oracle. His and Prompto’s invented game. (They played a few rounds, but it wasn’t the same. Perhaps it needed Prompto’s radiant laugh. Perhaps some of the aimless malice had gone out of Ignis’ heart.) All the while, Gladio held his hand and rubbed it gently.

It felt like a lifetime since he and Gladio had enjoyed a talk like this. It hadn’t really been all that long, but recent days stretched disproportionately in his mind. He was sure the others felt the same. He would be glad to put them behind him.

Eventually they decided to return to their compartment. Gladio placed a guiding hand on Ignis as they walked, and he appreciated it, but Ignis thought he could have made the journey himself. The mine had been an exacting education in the use of his cane. Compared to that ragged ground, the straight flat floor of the train car was simple to navigate.

Ignis had no trouble identifying which compartment was theirs. The squabbling voices of Noctis and Prompto were unmistakable, muffled though they were. When he slid open the door, the boys fell silent.

“What the hell is this?” Gladio asked.

“It’s, uh, for Iggy,” Prompto said.

“To help him sleep,” Noct elaborated.

“How’s he supposed to sleep without a bed?”

“Pardon me,” Ignis said. “What’s going on?”

“We put all the beds up,” Prompto said quickly, “and pulled all the mattresses and sheets and stuff onto the floor.”

“So we can sleep together,” Noctis said. “We thought. If you’re in the middle, and we’re all right there. Maybe you won’t be afraid.”

Though it made little difference in his vision, Ignis had to shut his remaining eye. The strength of his friends’ affection washed over him.

“Or if that’s no good, we can put the beds back,” Prompto said. “Plan B was for one of us to sleep with you, or sit with you, or whatever. Seriously, it can’t be that hard to figure out how to unlock them …”

“No,” Ignis said. “No, your initial plan sounds …”

“Adequate?” Gladio joked.

“More than adequate. It’s …” Ignis couldn’t continue. It was so many things he could not say. It was sweet and generous and kind. It was precisely what he wanted – these three ridiculous people, all close to hand.

An arm around his back (Gladio) and a hand on his arm (Prompto) brought him back to the moment. “C’mon, Iggster, pajama time. Your suitcase is right over here.”

It was a bit of a struggle for the four of them to get ready for bed, stepping around each other and over the uneven terrain of repurposed mattresses – Ignis wondered what the attendant would say if he happened upon the wreck they’d made of the compartment – but they managed.

“It’ll be me and Noct on either side of you, and Gladio by the door,” Prompto announced.

“Really,” Gladio said.

“Yes, really,” Noct replied. Gladio didn’t argue with him.

Prompto guided Ignis diligently to where he ought to be. “Okay, if you lie down here and get comfy, we’ll …”

“Actually, Noct, I’ve gotta steal you for a second first,” Gladio said quietly.

“Huh?” Noct said.

Ignis settled himself onto the cushioned ground. It was just as comfortable as the bed, and far more welcoming due to the prospect of company. He felt Prompto lay down beside him. He could hear Gladio’s voice quietly over near the door of the compartment. Then Noct’s.

“Gladio looks really serious,” Prompto narrated. “Noct’s got his eyes shut.” He slid up close behind Ignis, throwing an arm over him.

“Should we really be eavesdropping?”

“Dude, we’re not eavesdropping, they’re right here in the room. I’m just describing your surroundings for you. It’s like the opposite of our other game. Anyway, now Noct is holding Gladio’s hand and Gladio’s face is looking kind of wobbly.”

“I didn’t …” Gladio’s voice choked off. He was certainly on the verge of tears.

“Gladio turned toward the corner and he’s leaning his head on the wall.” Prompto’s voice was low in his ear. “I think he’s probably crying. Now Noct’s kind of hugging his arm. It’s super adorable.” Prompto shifted, wrapping himself tighter around Ignis. “This is nice. Being the big spoon, I mean. I should do it more often.”

“You are a bit compact for it, in regular circumstances.”

“Are you saying I’m not being a good big spoon?” Prompto sounded devastated. Ignis was fairly certain he was joking.

“Hardly. You’re doing marvelous.” Ignis found Prompto’s hand and interlaced their fingers. “I want to thank you, Prompto. For this latest kindness, and for everything you’ve done for me since Altissia.” Prompto made a small noise of disagreement, but Ignis gripped his hand. “Please. Don’t argue. I simply want you to know … it has been hard, but it would have been far worse without you.”

Ignis thought he could feel dampness where Prompto’s face was pressed into his hair. “Iggy, I’ll do anything I can to help you. I wish I knew about the sleeping thing this whole time. I feel … it doesn’t matter, but Ignis, I _promise_. You’ll never have to sleep alone in the dark again.”

Ignis had to breathe carefully to maintain his composure. Prompto was too good for any of them. “Don’t feel any obligation. I will adjust in time. Truly. But I would always welcome having you beside me.”

“Good,” Prompto whispered. “Cuz I’m not going anywhere.”

A weight flopped down on the blankets in front of him, and then Noctis was pressing into his chest. “No more feelings,” he said. “I want to sleep.”

“No promises,” Prompto said, clinging to Ignis like a limpet.

Ignis smiled. “And Gladio?”

“He’s coming,” Noct said. “He’s just flexing or something to remind himself he’s tough.”

“I see,” Ignis said. He threaded his fingers through Noct’s fine hair. It felt just as it always had. Soft and warm. Noct hummed drowsily against his collarbone.

He would do it a hundred times over. Anything was worth it to have Noctis here, safe in his arms.

“He’s probably whispering a mantra,” Prompto giggled. “’I am a big mean Shield, I am a big mean Shield.’”

“I _am_ a big mean Shield,” Gladio said. “And if you don’t shut up, I’ll come over there and prove it.”

The pile of mattresses shifted once more as Gladio came to join them. His large hand fell on Ignis’ waist and his breath fluttered Ignis’ hair, over the top of Noct’s head where he lay curled between them.

“Sleep well, Ignis,” Noct said softly.

“Mmhmm,” Prompto replied.

Gladio grunted.

It still took Ignis a while to drift off, but for a very different reason. The comforting weight of his companions was pressed snugly against every edge of him, and he wanted to savor it. He could not remember feeling so peaceful, not in quite some time.

As long as the four of them were together, they could face whatever came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t really mean for this to become like an extensive retelling of chapter 10. But … this part of the story was a lot. The whole time I was playing thru Cartanica, I was like physically upset. That’s when I knew this game was a work of art. Actual emotions = A++ storytelling.
> 
> Chapter 4 is written, it just needs editing. It will definitely be up by the end of tomorrow. Never fear ;)


	4. Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the end, where I try to bring this angst hurricane to a gentle landing. Have I succeeded? You tell me. X)
> 
> Tw for this chapter: vaguely implied abuse/torture (maybe I’m off to a bad start)

Prompto had literally no idea how long he'd been shackled to this hideous metal torture thing in this metal room surrounded by all these metal bars. It had to have been a couple days at least. Ardyn had come to him three times since he was put in here, and he’d lost some time after each of those visits, which made it hard to keep track.

Prompto’s mind skipped away from that. The visits were bad. He didn’t want to think about Ardyn.

What he did know was that every inch of his body hurt. That was an understatement. His muscles ached and his wrists were killing him and he was so, so tired. He'd spent days running around out in the snow - and weren't sub-zero temperatures supposed to require like 6,000 calories a day? He definitely hadn't been getting that many. And now he'd spent ... well, a long freaking time there in Gralea.

At least, he hoped it was Gralea. If Ardyn had taken him somewhere else while he was unconscious that first time, that brought the chances of Noct ever finding him from slim to literally none. Which would mean he was dead.

Of course, judging from the trembling in his body and the cottony feeling in his brain and the fact that all he wanted to do was cry but he literally didn't have the strength, maybe he was already basically dead and his heart just hadn't gotten the memo.

\---------

Flashing lights coming down the long hallway that would be etched into his eyeballs for the rest of his life brought Prompto right to attention. He'd been drifting, more and more he thought (it was hard to tell, time was getting slippery), but he made himself focus. Something was happening.

Noctis. Noctis was happening. Noctis and Ignis and Gladio were here, and they were rescuing him.

He only realized at that moment, as Gladio pried at his shackles and Ignis hovered and Noct shouted his name, how unsure he'd been that they would bother looking for him at all. But here they were. He felt like he was dreaming.

When they got him free and he pitched forward toward the ground - because his limbs weren't helping, not like the four strong hands that kept him from face-planting onto the metal floor - the first thing out of his mouth was, "Were you worried about me?"

Noct looked stricken. "Of course I was. What kind of question is that?"

Prompto dragged himself up to his knees. Noct's brilliant blue eyes were making his head spin, but he didn't ever want to look away. "Of course," Prompto said. He felt dazed. "Of course you were.”

Noct pulled Prompto into a desperate hug. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Prompto wrapped his arms around Noct and used him to try to hold himself upright.

Prompto hadn't slept in days, not really. Pretty hard to when he’d been shackled upright, and no way did micro-naps count. He wasn’t sure unconsciousness really did either. Not super restful. With Noct's arms around him, and Noct's words rattling around between his ears and soothing some of the static that had taken over his brain, Prompto's body waved the white flag.  “Guys … I’m not feeling so hot.” He started to sink.

"Prompto!"

"Easy there, blondie." Inked-up arms caught him, and then Prompto was kind of lying propped on Gladio's lap. "That's it, take it easy."

He knew he should probably try to sit up, knew they had places to be, things to do besides saving his sorry butt, but Gladio's hands were heavy where they held his arms. Then Ignis was there.

He stumbled to his knees, the same sick way he'd fallen a million times at the mines, but he was reaching for Prompto and holding himself back. "Are you injured, is he all right, can I ..."

“No bones sticking out,” Gladio said, at the same time as Prompto croaked, "Iggy ..."

Prompto reached out and managed to get his hand to pull at Ignis' shirt, and then Iggy's hands were on him, one sliding up his arm, one skating across his chest. They tucked themselves around him and held him tight, and Ignis lowered his face into Prompto's chest. "There you are," Ignis breathed.

Pompto tried to hold him back, but his arms were half trapped and half useless. "Here I am," he said weakly instead.

Iggy's shoulders jerked, just once, just a little. He was gripping Prompto so hard it almost hurt, but Prompto wouldn't have wanted him to stop for anything.

"You'll stay close to me from now on, won't you?" Ignis said.

Prompto wanted to say yes. He really did. But with Noctis hovering at his side and the press of Ignis against his chest and the support of Gladio at his back, it was getting really tough to stay awake.

Gladio dug his fingers into Prompto's arms. "Try not to pass out."

"Are you kidding?" Noct said. "Look at him. He can pass out if he wants to."

Apparently that was all the permission his brain needed.

\---------

He didn't stay passed out for long, though. A blink later he was both moving and still, held tight and secure as Gladio strode down a metal hallway like Prompto weighed nothing at all.

Suddenly Prompto understood what all those one-armed pushups were for. He could have literally cried from gratitude.

Then, as fast as he could blink (he might have passed out again), he was actually still and healing magic was glowing through him, dragging him into the light. They were in a room, and he was half-sitting on a mattress, and there were metal bars around him that made him tense up ... but it was just a bunk bed.

A strong arm around him tightened. "You're all right," Gladio said. A water bottle was lifted to his lips.

Prompto's mouth was a desert. The first sip felt better the potion. Better than a phoenix down. He gulped several more, not caring as water spilled out of the corners of his mouth and dribbled down his chin. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize Gladio was cradling him against his chest like Prompto was a newborn chocobo he was bottle-feeding.

Prompto choked, and Gladio immediately pulled the bottle back. Prompto reached for it. "I can do it." His voice came out a lot thinner and smaller than he wanted.

Gladio caught Prompto's wrist with his free hand - with the same arm wrapped around Prompto's back, how could Gladio even do that, he was so _big_ \- and pinned Prompto's arm against his chest. "I know you can," Gladio said, "but let me."

"Seriously," Noctis said from somewhere nearby. "You look terrible."

"Gee thanks, buddy" Prompto managed.

"He means you look like you've been through hell," Gladio said, like Prompto didn't get that, "so how 'bout you just let us sweat everything for a little bit?" Then the bottle was back against Prompto's lips, and the water tasted too sweet for Prompto to argue.

When that bottle and a second were empty, Gladio produced a granola bar from somewhere. Prompto didn't remember chewing ever being so much work. Partway through the third bite, Prompto let his eyes slip closed (just for a second, just to gather his strength), and the next thing he knew Gladio's fingers were rubbing gently against the sides of his throat. "You gotta swallow for me," Gladio said. "It'd be a shame to get all the way here and rescue your ass only for you to choke on some stale oatmeal."

Prompto focused all his energy on obeying, and eventually he managed it.

“Okay now, stay awake for me, Prompto. I need you to tell me how you’re feeling. Does anything still hurt?

“I don’t know.” He was so used to everything hurting. It was hard to tell. “It’s the same all over though.”

“Good, bad?”

Prompto’s forehead rested against Gladio’s pec. “I’m good now.”

“Prompto, I’m trying to figure out if you need another potion. You say it feels the same all over. Does that mean it hurts all over?”

“Just give it to him,” Ignis said from somewhere behind him. “Clearly he’s beyond exhausted.”

There was a crack, and the shimmery noise of magic. It washed though Prompto. He felt better after it was gone, so maybe he had been in pain. His eyelids weren’t as hopelessly heavy anymore either.

“Thanks,” he said. “That helped.”

“Good. We’re almost done, blondie, stick with me. Did they do anything to you I need to know about?”

Suddenly Prompto was very awake. “He, they … um.”

“Prompto,” Noct said. “He’s asking if Ardyn hurt you.”

Prompto felt sick. He wanted to disappear. “I mean … yeah, of course he did.”

Gladio squeezed him tighter. His hand came up to pet Prompto’s hair. Noct’s face pinched. “Like … how?”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Gladio interjected. “Unless you might still be at risk. Like if they injected you with weird stuff, or if they put something inside you that could keep hurting you. Then I need to know about it.”

Prompto’s hand twitched to his wrist. But that wasn’t what Gladio meant. He’d have to tell them about that, but not now. “I don’t remember anything like that. But … I was out of it sometimes. I don’t know what happened then.”

“Prompto.” Noct’s voice was quiet. “He really hurt you? Because of me?”

“I mean, it’s kind of hard to draw a straight line through it. He … did some things to me. That’s all.” At some point Prompto had started shaking.

“Okay, all right. You’re fine.” Gladio kept rubbing his head, and Noct sat down on the bed right next to him. Prompto was squeezed tight between them. Pretty soon he was okay again.

“Enough talking,” Gladio said. “Let’s get you to get some sleep.”

Then he was being moved and before he could work out what was happening, Gladio was lying back on the bunk with Prompto curled carefully on top of him. Chest to chest.

"You can't just hold him like that," Noct protested, and Prompto agreed ... but Noct wasn't finished. "You're hogging him."

"Tough titties. Get me a blanket."

"What about me?"

"What about you? " Gladio said, spreading a huge hand protectively across Prompto's back, and that wasn't right at all, Gladio protected _Noct_. Heck, Prompto was supposed to be part of the Crownsguard, he was supposed to be protecting Noct too, he'd come to Gralea to help him and now he was just lying there like a heap. But Prompto's body wasn't responding to commands.

"Just try to relax, Prompto. You gotta rest. You’re worn out. Noct, blanket?"

“Yeah, yeah.” Noct was shuffling around doing something.

Prompto wanted to argue, wanted to tell them he could keep going, wanted to be okay. But he couldn’t. He knew if he was being honest, he couldn't keep going. He was kind of the opposite of okay.

He felt safe, though, and good, and for a while there he'd been pretty sure he would die without ever feeling good again.

A blanket draped over him, over both of them. It was thin and scratchy, but Prompto was so beyond caring. Gladio was warm enough. Noct carefully tucked it in, even as he complained, “But there's no room for me." His hands were a gentle pressure on the other side of the fabric.

"Sorry, princess.” Gladio chest rumbled under Prompto's ear when he spoke. "Squeeze in."

Maybe this whole thing was a dream. Or maybe Prompto was actually dead now and this was the afterlife. Because even though there really was no room for Noct on the bunk, the mattress dipped and the bed frame creaked and Noct kind of draped himself over Prompto, as close as he could get despite Gladio's stubborn grip. His arm snaked around Prompto's middle.  There was a tickle of hair against the back of Prompto's neck, and then Noct's forehead came to rest against his shoulder blade.

“Noct,” Prompto whispered. “You okay?”

“Am _I_ okay?” Noct snorted. “You’re so dumb.”

“Noct hasn’t been okay since we lost you,” Gladio said. “He was beside himself. We could barely keep him from flinging himself off the speeding train to go look for you.”

"I thought it was him," Noct said quietly. "Ardyn. It was an illusion. He made you look like him."

Prompto searched for Noct's hand through the blanket and tried to lace their fingers. He did his best. "So if you'd known it was me ... you wouldn't have done it."

"Are you joking?" Noct clutched Prompto hard, and his nose was digging into Prompto's back. "Prompto. Don't you get it?"

Noct had said stuff like that before. But this time, there were tears in his voice and he was holding onto Prompto like a life preserver. And Prompto did get it, finally. He’d come back for Noct, and Noct had come for him.

His wrist prickled, pressed to Noct's with only blanket and the leather of his wristband between them. A phantom hint of that night by the fire when he'd tried to burn the mark off himself. He hoped he wasn't getting it too late. "I love you too, buddy." He thought that was okay to say right now. If not, he could honestly claim he was delirious from exhaustion.

Noct cleared his throat, and when he spoke his voice came out hoarse. "Right. You coming, Specs?"

 _Ignis._ Where was he? He was so quiet. Prompto pried his eyes open and forced his brain to process his surroundings for real. A dormitory. Metal walls and teeny stripped-down beds. Ignis was sitting on the edge of the next one over. He was kind of hunched forward, his head tilted toward them, like he was listening. His knuckles were pale on his cane.

"I'll leave you three to it," Ignis said. "There could hardly be room for me, and Prompto needs to rest. I can lie here. Keep watch." The corner of his mouth curled up wryly.

That sent a spear through Prompto’s chest. He'd made Ignis a promise, back on the train. And then he'd left him. He'd been gone ... how many days? How many nights?

How could he have thought for even a second he should stay away?

"Ignis," Prompto said, and for the first time he really struggled to get up. Not that it got him very far. Gladio's arms were like the world's most comforting vice. He reached toward Ignis, even though he couldn't see it. "Iggy, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ... I'm sorry I wasn't there, but I'm here now and I won’t leave you again. Please. You don't have to sleep alone."

Ignis' eyebrows dipped down. "Prompto ..."

"You'd better get over here, Iggy," Gladio said. "He's gonna have a cardiac event if you don't." Gladio flexed his fingers against Prompto's back. A second later, when Prompto realized that hand was there so Gladio could feel his heartbeat against his palm, it made his insides kind of do a somersault. Maybe ... Gladio had been worried about Prompto, too.

Prompto recovered his senses to find Ignis lowering himself carefully down onto the edge of the already-crowded bunk. The metal frame creaked dangerously. "Are you certain? I assure you, I would be perfectly fine on the next bed over."

"Seriously, Ignis?" Noct said. "He wants you to."

"Yeah, he definitely does," Prompto whispered.

A rainbow of emotions passed over Ignis' face. "Well, in that case, I could hardly remain away."

Ignis swung his legs up onto the bed. Noctis stirred to help guide his head down onto the other side of Gladio's chest. His face was like six inches from Prompto's, close enough that Prompto could make out every jagged edge of his scars. One of Ignis' hands held Prompto's head like it was something precious.

"You did not leave me," Ignis said. "You were taken from my side, through no fault of your own. There's no need for you to apologize. All that matters is you're here now."

Prompto didn't want to cry out any of the water he'd drunk. He was pretty sure his body needed all of it. He struggled to get one of his hands out of the blanket. It crept toward Iggy and claimed a handful of his shirt. “Glad I could make it.”

"As am I." Ignis swallowed. "Do try not to frighten me that way again."

"Yeah," Noct murmured into his back.

"Ditto," Gladio grunted. "Now everyone shut up."

Noct grumbled into the blanket and Ignis huffed, but they both fell silent.

Prompto’s cheek was squished against Gladio’s jacket. He was warm and he wasn't in pain and he was surrounded by his three friends, all squeezed onto a ridiculously tiny bed for his sake. He couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to, not without kicking someone off onto the floor. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

 

“It may be a bit silly, but perhaps …” Ignis hesitated. “An old nursery rhyme.” His voice dropped into a soothing tone made for stories. “'The little black sheep and the little white sheep all go to sleep in the fold. For nothing is hungry, and nothing is cold, when the kind old Night hides them from sight in the fold.'”

“Cute. Where’d you hear that, Iggy?” Gladio rumbled.

“My dad used to say it to us,” Noct said. “I always thought he was the kind old knight then.”

“I believe it’s meant to be night. As in, darkness.”

“It could be both,” Gladio suggested. “Night and knight.”

“Is the night ‘kind’?” Prompto asked.

A pause. “I believe so,” Ignis said. “Sometimes, at any rate.”

“But who’s the knight now?” Noct murmured quietly, almost to himself.

“You are, dummy,” Prompto laughed.

“We all are,” Ignis said. “All four of us. At least, we shall be once you’ve had a bit of a rest. Now hush. It’s time to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y’all SO MUCH for reading.
> 
> Seriously. Every hit, kudos, and comment on this series is amazing to me. I've spent so much time working on original fiction with no feedback that having, like, actual humans read my writing and say nice things about my work has put me on the floor. It's kind of pathetic.
> 
> Thank you all for being so cool. <3<3<3
> 
> I’m diving into Camp NaNo tomorrow for an original project, but I still have a lot of feelings about this game. Please do not hesitate to come find me over on tumblr [@carolyncaves](https://carolyncaves.tumblr.com/). I do have some vague ideas for possible future projects ... and I’ll probably vague-blog about them there :)


End file.
